


Propagate

by antivanitas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Reunion Sex, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Spoilers, Trans Keith (Voltron), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antivanitas/pseuds/antivanitas
Summary: It’s such a subtle detail, he thinks, and maybe no one else would notice.But, he’s been doing this with Shiro too longnotto notice.s3 spoilers!!!!





	Propagate

**Author's Note:**

> this is really unpolished but i stayed up all night to watch this bullshit and it's NOT SHIRO, it's not him, s1&2 shiro wasn't a clone, this is not the shiro who believed in keith and never gave up on him. it's fake news, lads.

They don’t have time to reconnect the first night, because _fuck_ , they need to clear out an outpost.  Of course they do.  Keith spends the entire time taking out his aggression, slicing through Galra drones.  It’s easier when he imagines that they were the ones who took Shiro from him in the first place.  It’s always been easier, that way.

Keith is exhausted, bloody, and sweaty by the time he returns.  And he’s not about to see Shiro when he’s like _this_ , so he scampers off to the showers with the rest of the team.  He doesn’t wince when he cleans his wounds.  It stings.  But, it’s good practice, in order to be an expert at hiding his pain from Shiro.

Lance gives him a knowing look when Keith walks in the opposite direction of his room.  Keith gives a smile that only affects his mouth, and Lance looks so _worried_ for him.  Keith tries to convey with his gaze that he’s fine.  He’s good, now.  Shiro’s back.  Everything is good.

And in some ways, it is.  Shiro stumbling out of that cruiser and into Keith’s arms—the feeling was indescribable.  They just stood there, arms around one another, for a solid thirty seconds before it turned into a group hug.  Shiro was thinner, and his hair was longer, but he was _Shiro_.

Keith still doesn’t understand why he looks so different.  He wasn’t gone _that_ long.  Three months isn’t enough time to grow your hair out like that, and it’s not enough time for him to waste away.  There’s a poorly dressed portion of Shiro’s leg, and when Keith asks about it, asks how bad it is, Shiro shrugs him off. 

Keith figures that there’s time to understand that when he’s relearning Shiro’s body.

Three months isn’t a year.  If Shiro had come back to Earth after three months, Keith would still be in the Garrison, with a few chips in his record, but not enough to shatter his legacy.  Three months is _nothing_.  Keith only _really_ lost it once he realized a baby had been born in the time Shiro had been dead.

So, when Keith doesn’t knock on Shiro’s door and it swishes open, he’s thankful that some things don’t change, no matter how long it’s been.

Shiro isn’t sleeping, but he’s in his bed, staring at the ceiling like he’s trying to find the answers written on it.  Keith’s questions are burning on his tongue, singeing his throat as they threaten to overwhelm him in a volcanic eruption of accusation and frantic reassurance.  Instead, he stands.  He waits for Shiro’s familiar grey eyes to meet his own.  That’s when he finally allows himself to smile.

 _It’s okay_.

Shiro rises up on his elbows in favor of a verbal greeting with the softest expression on his face.  Keith _melts_ , and the fire in his heart turns the cloudy sand into clear glass.  Shiro’s here.  Nothing else matters, right now.

He tries not to rush forward, and does his best to keep his footsteps even after he leaves his boots at the door.  At first, he kneels so carefully on the bed that Shiro’s brow creases in concern.  And that’s what does it—that’s what kills Keith, the look on Shiro’s face like he doesn’t want Keith to be afraid of him.

Keith crawls forward and cups Shiro’s cheek.  It’s him.  He has to brush long and silky hair behind Shiro’s ear to keep his face visible, but it’s _him_.  Beautiful and perfect and Keith can barely believe what he’s seeing.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Keith asks, but he laughs with a sad smile, because he can’t express anything but gratitude right now.  “Leaving, and...God, I missed you.”

Shiro doesn’t look nearly as affected by the absence, which is likely because he doesn’t remember the last three months.  He’s already said so, in the hangar, his eyes blown wide.  Three months, they told him.  And Shiro responded saying it had only been a week, at most, but then he saw Keith’s expression and realized they were all telling the truth.

So, Shiro isn’t staring at him like he’s the cross above the altar.  Keith hasn’t been a gaping ravine in his memory.  As far as Shiro remembers, he saw Keith a week ago. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long,” Shiro murmurs.  “I don’t know what happened.”

“We can talk about that once I’ve accepted that you’re real,” Keith laughs, and it’s shaky and nervous and rushed.  “Or once I’ve accepted this _hair_.”

Shiro grins, glances away, and bites his lip.  Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more beautiful.

Slowly, Keith pushes forward until their lips are brushing, and Shiro is huffing out laughter.  “I haven’t even shaved, yet.”

“I don’t care,” Keith tells him.  Then, his voice drops, and he slinks forward until he can gently push Shiro’s back to the bed, where it belongs.  “I have, though.”

And, it’s like Shiro has been starving for more than just food.  His pupils become black holes, and Keith is pulled into the event horizon.  “Yeah?  Even while I wasn’t here?”

“I had to be _prepared_ ,” Keith coos.  He straddles Shiro so easily, like they were never separated.  “For when I found you again.”

Shiro groans, subconsciously rolling his hips against the warmth between Keith’s thighs.  For someone who believes he’s only gone a week and a half without sex, Shiro is acting like a dying man who has just reached fresh water.

“So, you always knew the first think you’d want from me is a round of reunion fucking,” Shiro says.  “I appreciate that.  I thought about that a lot, on my way here.”

Keith purrs when Shiro’s fingertips slip inside the waistband of his pants.  He feels warm palms brushing up his bare stomach, and Keith arches his back when Shiro toys with the hooks of his binder.

“Too many clothes,” Shiro grumbles.  Keith smirks, and rolls to the side to kick off his pants.  Shiro is ready to go underneath the blankets, and seems completely content to watch Keith meet his state of undress with fierce determination.  “Do you have to be that cute?”

Shiro is on top of him, then, and Keith can feel his hardness pressing against the inside of his thigh.  God, he _missed_ that, and he mewls, pushing his body forward until Shiro has to press him firmly to the bed.  “Ah-ah.  Patience.”

Keith rolls his eyes.  “I don’t have patience.  I want you inside me, god damn it.”

But, it appears Shiro has other plans.  Keith might be impatient, but the second Shiro’s lips dip below his navel, all he can think about is how hard his clit is throbbing and how badly he wants Shiro to feel it.  His body is singing—he missed this.  God, he _missed this_.

The first thing he notices is that Shiro goes straight for his cunt.  No skin biting, no light blowing until Keith begs with a half-gone mind.  Shiro doesn’t even spread Keith open to comment on how _wet_ he is, or how he’s dripping onto the sheets and making them dirty, just like himself.

Shiro’s tongue is pressed flat against his clit in an instant.  And Keith isn’t complaining, really, but Shiro always takes his time, even when he got back after being captured.  Even when they were in this very room, this very bed, Shiro had been focused on making it last.  Making it count.

Keith groans, reaching to tug on Shiro’s long hair, and his fingers tangle much easier than they did before.  He grinds against Shiro’s face, because if they’re going for it, Keith is taking advantage of the enthusiasm.

The second thing he notices is that Shiro uses his _right hand_ to slip a finger into the wetness of Keith’s cunt.  It’s something Keith has always wanted, always begged for, but Shiro always refused.  Keith began to realize it wasn’t about shame, or a self-hatred following body modification.  No—Shiro had been afraid of _hurting_ Keith.  What if he activated it by accident?

But, it’s that knowledge, that _thrill_ and _risk_ that has Keith arching, gasping, _begging_ for more.  It doesn’t make sense, and his mind is screaming, because they didn’t talk about this.  They never do anything new without talking about it.  It’s only been a week for Shiro.  Only a week in Shiro’s mind since they last made love.  Such behavior couldn’t possibly change that quickly.

Keith doesn’t care.  He can’t care when Shiro is fucking him slow and shallow with his fingers, while flicking his tongue again and again on Keith’s clit.

“Shiro,” Keith rasps, and Shiro presses his left hand down on Keith’s abdomen, and _oh_.  That’s new, too.  That’s new, and Keith moans a little _too_ loudly when the pressure and pleasure increases tenfold.  “Jesus—that’s so—good, holy _fuck_.”

Where the fuck did he learn how to do that?

The third thing he notices is when Shiro pushes four fingers inside of him, and that’s when Keith’s mind starts to brake.  Keith never likes more than three.  He wants a _cock_ to satisfy that part, he wants a cock buried deep inside of him, he wants to be _teased_ with three fingers.  It’s such a subtle detail, he thinks, and maybe no one else would notice.

But, he’s been doing this with Shiro too long _not_ to notice.  Combined with everything else, Keith’s starting to swish his hand through the fog of lust in his mind.

Then, Shiro is moving to press his forehead against Keith’s.  He’s lining up his cock— _already_?  The fuck?—and panting, emanating little moans that drive Keith mad.

Shiro _shoves_ inside of him.  Keith cries out, but not in pleasure or pain.  It’s shock.  Shock that Shiro is pressing so far, so _deep_ so immediately.  It’s not _like_ him.  He _never_ does this.  And, while it certainly isn’t an unpleasant feeling, Keith’s subsequent moans feel...forced?  Awkward?  He isn’t sure.

Fake, maybe.  False.  Those are good words to describe it.

Shiro kisses him.  It’s more than just a brush of the lips—now, it’s rounded and dark, with Shiro’s tongue pressing against his when Keith gasps.  It’s wet and sloppy, and so unlike Shiro, and Keith isn’t _complaining_ but he’s a chicken without its head.  Why does this feel so different?  Why is it like Shiro is...God, he doesn’t know.  He can’t figure out what the fuck is _wrong_.

Keith is too distracted.  He realizes, right when Shiro is about to come, that he’s barely aroused.  Shiro whispers in his ear— _come for me, baby_ —and, for the first time in his life, Keith _fakes_ it.

Keith fakes his orgasm.  He doesn’t know why, but the thought pops into his head, because he needs to convince Shiro that this is normal.  He can’t let Shiro catch onto the fact that he’s so confused, so thrown off by their current intimacy.  Keith clenches his eyes shut, tenses his muscles, and grips so hard to Shiro’s biceps that he thinks he might leave marks.  He constricts around Shiro purposefully, again and again until Shiro is filling him up to the brim, growling in his ear.

The afterglow is familiar.  Shiro pulls out, Keith starts to leak, and Shiro presses his fingers against Keith’s cunt like he’s trying to keep his come inside.  They don’t speak for a few moments.  The silence, usually a welcome reprieve for Keith’s blurry mind, is oppressive.  It’s suffocating.

It’s not unusual for Keith to rise to his feet.  He gathers his clothes, like he does whenever they have a quick fuck but need to get back to the bridge before the others ask questions.  Shiro watches him get dressed and rises in bed, and he shivers, so Keith tosses him a tank top.

Shiro stares at his lap.  Keith both wishes to know what he’s thinking, and prays that he’ll never find out.

“So...what happened?”

**Author's Note:**

> conspire w me on twitter @hitchups


End file.
